Chapter Twenty-nine
"Whew!" Annie whispered to Sam out on the boardwalk. "For a moment I didn't think we'd get out of there with our hides intact."
"Ah, it wasn't so bad," he said, assisting her into the buggy.
Annie rolled her eyes. "What do you mean, it wasn't bad? You walk in there bold as brass, overturning tables and announcing everyone's been damned to hell, then expect that gang of miscreants to accept it all in good grace?"
Hopping in beside her, Sam chuckled and worked the reins.
"On top of that, I was scared to death Royce Rowdy might have noticed my resemblance to Rosie."
Sam considered this with a frown. "Yeah, he seemed taken aback for a moment, but I think you passed muster."
"Well, I can't believe you're being so cavalier about everything."
He spoke sternly. "Annie, I ain't being cavalier. Matter of fact, I'm worried about your safety. But if we're going to pull off this masquerade, it's going to be through sheer daring."
"Yes, I suppose you have a point . . ." She paused, her expression perplexed. "Why do you think Rowdy is letting you preach tomorrow?"
Sam reined in the horses in front of the boardinghouse. "I ain't rightly sure, though I've heard he's partial to preachers. My guess is, he wants something."
Annie nodded. "I think he finds you intriguing and diverting, and when he becomes bored, he may just shoot us both."
"Well, he's shooting you over my dead body."
Quite possibly, Annie mused grimly.
Taking his Bible, Sam climbed out of the buggy and strode around to her side. "Come on, sugar, let's get a room."
She dubiously eyed the small, ramshackle boarding house, with its peeling paint and pots of drooping petunias on the porch windowsills. "What if they don't have one?"
He winked, shoving the Bible under his arm and pulling their two bags out of the boot of the buggy. "We'll try the saloon. Maybe one of them line gals has an extra bunk up in her crib."
"Oh, you're impossible!"
Carrying the bags, Sam followed Annie up the sagging stoop of the plain, Greek Revival-style house. His knock was answered by a plump woman who appeared to be around thirty. Her face was flushed, glossy with sweat. Her brown hair was coiffed in a bun, from which numerous damp tendrils spilled free. She wore a dark blue broadcloth dress and a food-stained apron.
"May I help you, sir?" she asked breathlessly, glancing from the newcomers to their luggage.
"Yes, ma'am." Sam shifted his Bible and gave the woman a moment to notice it. "I'm Reverend Lemuel Prophet and this is my bride, Sister Rebecca. We're staying over so I can lead a revival and preach to the heathens hereabouts, and I was hoping you might have a room to let."
The woman let out a gasp of delight and clapped her hands. "Oh, a preacher! My, my, we haven't had your likes around these parts ever since Stinky Hacker up and shot the circuit rider." Watching her guests' faces pale, the woman laughed and waved a hand. "Don't fret, folks. Stinky was a bad-tempered drunkard, but thank God he ate some rancid pork and passed on last spring."
Quashing a smile at her droll humor, Sam replied cordially, "In that case, the wife and I are mighty pleased to be here."
"But it's a flat shame we're full up," the woman continued with an apologetic frown.
"Is there no place for us?" Annie asked.
Their hostess pondered this, then burst into a smile. "Well, I suppose you could have my brother's room in the attic. Dick's off prospecting right now. I'm sure he won't mind, you doing the good Lord's work and all."
Sam removed his hat. "We'd be mighty obliged, ma'am."
The plump woman stepped back and opened the door wide. "Now, where are my manners? Come on in, you two. I'm Dolly Dumble and I'm right proud to have you here!"
Sam retrieved their luggage, and Annie preceded him inside a barren but cleanly swept central hallway. The comforting aroma of chicken simmering toward the back of the house eased her anxieties about staying here.
"Your room is this way," Dolly called.
With Dolly in the lead, the three proceeded past a parlor filled with rocking chairs and a black horsehair settee, then up two flights of stairs. By the time they wended their way up a third spiral of twisting, narrow steps that obviously led to the attic, Dolly was huffing and puffing.
"Sorry you folks have to be all the way up here, but Dick likes his privacy."
"No problem, ma'am, we do, too," answered Sam dryly.
Annie tossed him a chiding look over her shoulder, but the rogue only grinned.
They followed Dolly inside a drab but spacious attic room, with an iron double bed, a plain dressing table, and a boxy-looking maple bureau. Sunlight spilled in through the front windows, the soft beams illuminating a small eating table with two ladder-back chairs.
Though the accommodations were austere, Annie noted that the bedding and curtains looked fresh, and the bare floor appeared recently swept. In one corner were piled items that obviously belonged to Dolly's prospector brother—a stack of faded shirts and dungarees, a rusted-out wash pan and gritty shovel, a bucket filled with what appeared to be dime novels.
Setting down the bags, Sam glanced about the room with an approving smile. "This'll do right fine, ma'am," he informed Dolly, taking out his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"
She waved him off with a plump hand. "Oh, no sir, I can't take money off'n a preacher. The least I can do is give you and your wife free room and board, you leadin' the revival and all. Why, it's my Christian duty."
"That's right kindly of you, ma'am," Sam replied. "And I'm sure the good Lord will take due note."
Moving over and opening the window, Dolly gazed down at their horses and buggy in the street. "But if you want to give me four bits, I'll have Zach—he's sort of my handyman—take your rig down to the stable and see your horses is tended."
Sam dug in his pocket and handed Dolly two coins. "Much obliged, ma'am."
She accepted the money with a smile. "Heck, we're the ones who are blessed to have you here in Rowdyville, Reverend. I warn you, this is a mighty godless place."
Annie stifled a smile as she watched Sam stick his thumbs inside his vest pockets and fairly preen like a peacock. "Well, ma'am, that's the reason the good wife and me are here, to minister to Rowdyville's sinners."
"Bless you, Reverend. You know, Dick and me used to live in Central and attend Saint James Methodist Church." She sighed heavily. "I sure miss playing the piano for them fine folks."
Sam and Annie exchanged a meaningful glance. Then he asked, "Ma'am, would you be willing to play for us at services tomorrow?"
She clapped her hands. "Why, I'd be right proud! Where will church be held?"
"At the Rowdy Roost," Annie put in.
The woman's hands flew to her face. "The saloon!"
Sam feigned a grim countenance. "We have to minister to the sinner in his den, do we not, Sister Dolly?"
"Well, I suppose." She brightened. "Don't worry, Reverend, I'll be there good and early with my hymnal. Maybe some of them soiled doves Royce Rowdy roosts in his hellhole will repent of their evil doin's and give 'The Old Rugged Cross' a chance. You may be sure there'll be no strutting about to 'Buffalo Gals' while Dolly Dumble is at the piano."
"We're counting on you, ma'am," agreed Sam.
Dolly flashed both her guests a smile. "Oh, I can hardly wait! Now if you folks want supper, it'll be served in the kitchen at five. Or, if you're right tuckered, I could bring you up a tray."
Sam glanced at Annie, and she repressed a smile at the mischief dancing in his eyes. To Dolly, he intoned soberly, "We'd be mighty obliged if you'd fetch up our vittles, ma'am. You see, I do need to work on my sermon."
Dolly made a sound of dismay. "But of course. How thoughtless I am! I'm keeping you from studying your Good Book, ain't I, Reverend? Well, I'll bring up supper for you folks just before five."
"Thank you kindly, ma'am."
Beaming, Dolly swept out in a rustle of voluminous skirts.
Tugging off her gloves and tossing them on the dresser, Annie rolled her eyes at Sam. "Really, Sam? Work on your sermon? Shame on you for taking advantage of that poor woman—conning her out of free room and board, not to mention a dinner tray."
Sam laughed, striding to Annie's side and pulling her into his arms. "That 'poor woman' is having the time of her life and you know it."
"Well, she is pretty gushy, I'll admit. But I do feel guilty for imposing. I thought she would pass out after leading us up three flights of stairs."
"What's the alternative, sugar? We need a respectable place to stay. We can't give away our disguises, can we?"
"No, but the supper tray was too much," Annie scolded. "We should go downstairs, mingle with the other boarders, try to find out what we can about Rosie—"
He held up a hand. "All in good time, sugar. Reckon breakfast'll be soon enough for us to meet the other boarders."
"But what are we going to do in the meantime?"
An ardent gleam burning in his eyes, Sam ran a hand up and down Annie's spine and inclined his head toward the bed. His voice took on a husky note. "Well, sugar, it occurs to me that's a mighty fine-looking feather tick, and it's been almost eight hours since I've made love to you."
"Sam!" Annie protested, even as her heart hammered with anticipation. "They'll hear us downstairs!"
"Naw," he replied with a chuckle, reaching out to remove her horn-rimmed glasses. "They'll own it up to religious fervor."
"You are awful."
Yet Annie was laughing as Sam untied the ribbons on her black silk bonnet. He leaned over and nestled his warm lips against her throat. "Besides, you look so damn prim, I'm hankering to undo you."
"Well, to tell you the truth, I am dying to get out of this corset," she admitted with a groan.
"Ma'am, I'll be happy to oblige you." Grinning, Sam pulled her to the bed with him, and they landed side by side on the feather tick. He gazed down into her eyes. "Know what I love about this, Annie?"
"What?" she asked breathlessly.
He raised her left hand to his mouth and solemnly kissed the finger with the wedding band. "Pretending you're mine."
"Oh, Sam." Her heart melting, she curled her arms around his neck.
Sam continued to regard her thoughtfully as he pulled the pins from her hair. "Sometimes, I get so afraid—"
"Of what?" she cut in. "I thought you weren't afraid of anything."
"I am afraid of losing you," he admitted. "And maybe just a little scared I'll lose myself in you."
She gazed up at him starkly. "Then you still have a choice. I'm already a goner."
A look of fierce tenderness crossed his face. He uttered her name in a groan as their lips met hungrily. He thrust his fingers into her hair, holding her mouth to his. A moment later his impatient fingers began unfastening the many tiny buttons on her bodice. She sat up, sighing in relief when he untied her corset, then punching him playfully when he chuckled and tossed the corset on the floor. She unbuttoned his vest and shirt and caressed his muscled chest, leaning over to kiss his smooth flesh and the tufts of dark, sexy hair. He pushed her camisole aside and ran his lips over a shapely breast. Annie quivered with delight as her nipple hardened beneath his skilled mouth. Currents of desire sizzled down her body to settle deep inside her, and her back arched in ecstasy.
She smiled as she felt Sam's hand sliding beneath her skirts, his fingers reaching for the tie on her drawers. She slipped her hand between their bodies, wantonly caressing him through his trousers, delighting at his tortured grunt.
"Getting impatient, are you, cowboy?" she teased.
"Impatient to savor every inch of you."
He did, removing all of Annie's clothing, arousing her entire body with his hands and mouth. He kissed her ankles, her long legs, her trembling thighs, and slowly nuzzled his lips over her belly and breasts, exciting her to a fever pitch until she was famished for him and tearing at his clothes.
At last he brought her astride him and freed his burgeoning erection. His features were seized with desire, but she found his expression every bit as poignant as it was passionate.
"It would be lovely to have you with me all the time," he murmured, his voice tight. "To make love to you in the sunshine, watch what I'm doing to you, see every response in your beautiful blue eyes . . ."
"You can see it now . . . can't you?" she replied breathlessly.
He smiled, then penetrated her in a powerful upward stroke. She cried out, leaving him surging upright to claim her quivering lips. She panted, locked in his lap, transported by the exquisite sensations consuming her, shattering her with such bliss.
"You all right?" he asked.
She nodded between gasps. "I can take all the love you can dish out, cowboy."
His knowing chuckle hinted she might regret her words. But she didn't as he held her to him tightly, plied her breasts with his mouth and tongue, and rocked her into paradise. Soon her fingernails dug into his spine and her teeth nipped at his shoulder, but her kiss was all surrender as they surged toward their mutual climax. That moment proved so intense that she tossed her head and sobbed once more. Sam quickly recaptured her lips, drowning out the rapturous sounds. Otherwise, Annie mused dazedly, they would have heard her downstairs for sure.